Jock Royal (Jock Hard 4)

Dad and Grandpa love metaphors.

I give a feeble nod, thankful that my bottom lip doesn’t tremble when I say, “No, I get it. I understand.”

When Mom eases her way into my room and comes to sit next to me on the bed, wrapping her arm around me, Dad comes to join, sitting on my other side.

“You’ll do the right thing,” he says.

Mom kisses me on the top of the head. “Get the annulment, sweetie, and move on.”

Tell me how you really feel.

Epilogue

Ashley

Twenty-nine days more…

“Jack, can you get the door?”

I listen for the sound of his footfalls, but there are none.

“Jack?”

I know he’s here; he stuck his head in the bathroom this morning when I was on the loo taking a dump and asked if I wanted a coffee while he was running errands, but it’s been hours and he should have been back long ago.

I’ve been seated at his kitchen table for a while now, paperwork from the office printed and scattered, along with a real estate sampler of housing and flat rentals.

The pen in my hand has been busy circling proper places to let.

I set it down when the doorknocker gives another metallic clank.

No signs of my brother.

Fine.

I’ll get the door myself, not that it was a problem to begin with, but it’s his flat and probably his delivery—assuming that’s what it is since we’re not expecting company.

Armed with a budget, I’ve been trolling for a place of my own so I can get out from under Jack—it’s impossible having phone sex with my girlfriend whilst sleeping on the couch with my blasted brother in the next room.

His favorite thing to do? Bust out of his bedroom with absolutely no warning whatsoever and try to catch me with my hand down my pants.

No thank you.

I get up from the table and shuffle through the house. Parlor, hallway, front entry, hardly checking to see who’s outside before unlatching the lock and pulling the door open.

Georgia is standing on the veranda.

Down on the pavement stands my brother with three giant suitcases in his hands and a stupid smile plastered on his face.

Georgia.

Suitcases.

Georgia.

Suitcases.

It takes me half a second longer to gather my wits, stepping outside to grab her and lift her up.

“I missed you,” she says, face buried in my neck, lips kissing below my ear.

“I missed you, too,” I reply breathlessly, emotions I didn’t know I had welling up inside me. “I can’t believe you’re here. I was getting annoyed at my brother for not getting the door. Bloody irritating it was.” I kiss her lips. “But it was you.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

The sky is dark and threatening rain, so I usher her inside. “Get inside, let’s…” I glance down at Jack on the pavement. “Hold on, let me help him—you go in.” Bounding down the steps, I embrace my brother. “You arse! How long have you known she was coming?”

He shrugs, hefting two of Georgia’s bags. “Couple weeks. I wager she has loads to tell you.”

I nod, grabbing the third suitcase and having Jack go up the stairs first.

She doesn’t travel light, this one.

My brother and I get her things inside, setting everything by the door. When I find Georgia, she’s on the couch with her shoes off, rising again when I walk into the room.

I turn to my brother.

“Mate, can we use your room for a bit?”

He grunts. “No shagging.”

My girlfriend laughs. “We’re not going to shag, I promise you!”

“We’re not?” I tease, knowing full well we have to talk. I have a million questions in my mind at the same time. I do want to kiss her so bad, but not with an audience.

Soon we’re settled on his bed, facing each other, holding hands and kissing. She puts her arms around my neck and leans in, pressing her forehead to mine.

“I missed you so much.” She sighs, emotion lacing her voice. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

Speaking of which…

“What are you doing here, Georgia? Not that I’m not excited by the surprise, but did something happen? What’s going on?”

Her head bows. “My parents…ugh. I don’t want to make them sound like assholes because it’s my fault, but they basically kicked me out.”

“What?” I exclaim. “Why?”

“The three of us—well, mainly my parents—have done a lot of soul searching the past month, and they really want me to find myself and figure out what I want to do. They want…” She clears her throat. “Me to grow up. Them ‘kicking me out’ of the house was them kicking me out of the nest so I could ‘fly.’”

Georgia keeps using air quotes.

“It’s actually really embarrassing. I told them about us.”

I can feel my eyes get wider at her pronouncement. “You did?”

“Yes, and it didn’t go as great as I’d hoped. Or maybe it went exactly as I thought it would—I don’t know. It was horrible, I was so embarrassed, everything was so awkward.”